The Steward and His Lady
by Undomiel5
Summary: AU where Eowyn dies after her battle with the Witch King. Faramir, instead, meets Gloredhel, an Elven lady of royal blood, during his time in the Houses of Healing. They later marry. This story chronicles their life together from their first meeting in T.A. 3019, their marriage and children, his death in Fo.A 82, and the effect on his immortal wife. Complete For Now.
1. Chapter 1

T.A. 3019

March 20

Minis Tirith: The Houses of Healing

A new day had dawned over Gondor. The sun shone brightly over the White City, and the weather was fair. Yet, a pall hung over this same city, for the inhabitants were in great fear of the dark lord and those he commanded. But this spirit of dread was less prevalent in those who dwelt in the Houses of Healing on the Sixth Level. Here dwelt those brave men who had fought and been injured in the Battle of Pelennor Fields less than a week before.

In these halls walked Faramir, now the Steward of Gondor after the death of his father, for he was not yet healed from his grievous wounds. Here the Warden of the Houses of Healing found him now looking eastward, now speaking an encouraging word to one or other of the inhabitants of this House.

"Stay a moment, my lord," the Warden said approaching the Steward, "I would speak with you for a moment."

Faramir paused and turned back when he heard the words of the Warden. "What do need, sir?"

"Your help, my lord," The Warden replied. "There is in my care, sir, an elf, one of those who rode in the Grey Company. She was injured during the battle and now rests here in these halls."

"She?" Said Faramir in surprise.

"Yes, lord, an elf lady. . . . I didn't know that the elves sent their women into battle." The warden replied. It was obvious that he thought this practice quite strange and not altogether pleasing.

"It is not unheard of among the elves, but it is certainly uncommon." Said the Steward. "Please, continue."

"Of course, sir. As I was saying, she was injured during the battle. Now that the Host has set out into the East, she will not rest. She just walks back and forth in the gardens. She will not listen to me when I tell her to rest."

"And you wish me to speak with her?" Asked Faramir.

"Yes, my lord, perhaps she will be more willing to follow your commands."

"How badly is she hurt? Will this restless pacing do her harm?"

"For an elf her wounds are relatively minor." Replied the Warden. "She has several broken ribs, a wound on the side of her face, and a broken wrist and several broken fingers on her left hand. The only wound she might aggravate is her twisted knee. Since she is an elf, her knee should heal anyway, but it will heal more quickly if she would rest."

"I will speak with her." Said Faramir. "Where is she? And what is her name?"

"She walks still in the garden. The two elf princes who brought her here called her Gloredhel."

"Very well, thank you, Warden." And saying this Faramir left the Warden and made his way toward the gardens.

Faramir's first sight of this mysterious elf was as he walked down the short flight of stone steps that led to a small garden from where one could look east. The elf lady had for the moment ceased her pacing and stood looking eastward. Faramir, curious, stood watching her for a moment. The elf was quite tall, not much shorter than Faramir himself. Her hair was golden and was pulled back in one long braid. She was dressed in what appeared to be a tunic and trousers of a dark color, and over her shoulders lay a cloak of grey cloth.

As Faramir stepped off the last step onto the grass, the elf lady turned, her keen ears picking up the sounds of his approach. As they were too far off yet for polite speech, she didn't speak but waited for him to approach. For a moment Faramir had another chance to study her now that he could see her better. Even injured her manner was stately and dignified. Her bearing was upright, her face queenly. More plainly now he could see her injuries. The expression of her face and of her keen blue eyes was marred by the bandage wrapped around the right side of her face and over her eye. Her left arm and hand were splinted and hung in a sling; her good arm was wrapped protectively around her injured ribs. Faramir could also see by the way she was standing that she was trying to keep her weight off her injured knee.

Faramir stopped a polite distance away from the elf. "Lady Gloredhel, I presume."

"I am" She replied her voice polite but restrained. "But tell me lord, if you are the Steward, as I believe, is there any news about those who have ridden east?"

"There is no news yet, lady, which would soothe a troubled heart. All we know is that the Captains have crossed into the Morgul Vale." Faramir replied.

She sighed heavily and turned away. "I should be with them. I should be with them." She murmured softly seeming to forget for a moment that anyone else was there.

Faramir pitied her, for he could see that she was deeply troubled by something. Thinking of the Warden's wish he moved a short distance away to where there was shade from a small tree. Faramir perceived that he wouldn't get very far by simply telling her to do something, but perhaps he might get her to rest by another means. "Won't you sit and talk with me for a little while, lady?"

Gloredhel agreed and moved over to where he was standing. Faramir assisted her to sit down on the soft grass and then sat down himself about an arm's length away.

"The Warden tells me that you rode in the Grey Company." Faramir said once they were seated.

Gloredhel glanced over at him for a moment with her keen eyes, but seeing that he was speaking sincerely, she replied, "I did."

"If I might ask, how came you, a lady of high rank, to ride with the Grey Company to battle and possible death?"

"Oaths made long ago led me here; oaths that constrained my brother and myself to protect Elrond and his children." Gloredhel said softly. She took a deep breath and for a moment looked east before bringing her attention back to her companion sitting nearby. "I am an elf of the House of Elrond. For many long years I have dwelt there in safety, though I sometimes carried messages to the other Elven Realms for Master Elrond. But most the time I have dwelt in Rivendell serving as an advisor to Lord Elrond. But when the Grey Company decided to ride south to seek Aragorn, I chose to ride south with Elrond's sons while my brother remained in Rivendell with Lord Elrond. I traveled with them south. I was there when they met Aragorn at Dol Baran; I followed them through the Path of the Dead, and I fought with them at Pelagir and at Pelennor Fields. I was injured there with many wounds. I am told that the 'elf princes' brought me here. And here I have stayed, waiting, watching, hoping . . . and praying. "

All was quiet for a few moments after Gloredhel brought her explanation to a close. Then she spoke again. "But why have you sought me, my lord? Surely not just to see why an elf lady rode in the Grey Company?"

"Nay, lady, not for that purpose, thought I did wonder." Faramir replied. "I come on behalf of the Warden of this house. He worries that you will aggravate your injuries by your restlessness and hoped that I might be able to convince you to rest."

"I see." For a moment her face showed a trace of annoyance, but then her face cleared. "I will rest now." She said. "I do begin to grow weary."

Faramir stood and then gave the lady a hand to arise. Together they started to walk inside. They were part up way the steps that led indoors, when Gloredhel stumbled badly. She would have fallen, but Faramir caught her arm.

She reached out her hand to the wall to help steady herself. Once she was steady, he released her arm. "Are you alright?" He asked.

She nodded. "Yes, I'm alright. This bandage on my face throws off my depth perception."

"Why don't you take my arm, lady, until we reach your quarters. The Warden would be very unhappy with me, if you received a new wound on my watch."

Gloredhel gave a small smile and took his arm, and they continued inside. Faramir saw her safely to her room and then left to search for the Warden.


	2. Chapter 2

Fo.A. 8

Early April

Gondor

The sun shone brightly high in the sky, and the birds were singing as Gloredhel made her way down the front steps of the House. Mablung who had formerly served with the Rangers of Ithilien during the War of the Ring stood holding two horses at the foot of the steps. Gloredhel's husband Faramir, the Steward of Gondor, had journeyed to Minas Tirith several days before, and now Gloredhel and their young son Elboron were about to depart Emyn Arnen to join him in the White City.

As Gloredhel reached the bottom step, she paused and looked around herself for her son who had been right behind her a few moments before. "Elboron, where are you, my son?" She called looking back toward the house.

"Here I am, Mama," replied a small boy of about six who appeared out of the house and started to trot down the steps toward the horses.

"There you are, my boy." Gloredhel said with a smile as her little son stopped beside her. "Are you ready to go see father?"

Elboron nodded eagerly for he was missing his father greatly. Gloredhel only reply was a small smile. She then turned and taking the reins of her horse from the ranger mounted her horse, a stallion with a dapple grey coat. Once she was settled on the horse's back, the ranger lifted Elboron up onto his place in front of his mother. After the ranger had mounted his own horse, the two riders urged their horses into a trot and then a canter and made their way out of the town on what they believed would be a simple journey north to Minas Tirith.

Gloredhel's plan was to travel the twenty-five miles north to Osgiliath where she could the Anduin and then turn back south-west the ten miles to the city. If all went well they would reach Minas Tirith by dinner time.

The first hour-and-a-half of the trip went well. Gloredhel and Mablung kept their horses to a trot or a slow canter. Elboron entranced by all the interesting things to see was quiet and well behaved. They had traveled about ten miles when Mablung spoke, breaking the silence of the quiet afternoon.

"Lady," he said pointing up the road thereby drawing her attention to several figures about 200 yards ahead of them.

Gloredhel looked towards where Mablung was pointing. Her keen eyes could see them clearly, but she did lift one hand to shade her eyes from the bright sun as she gazed ahead.

"I see them. It is the odd that they don't have horses. There aren't any villages near here, are there?"

"No, lady," replied the ranger, "the closest town is Emyn Arnen or Osgiliath depending on which way one travels."

The lady did think it a little strange, but thinking that the figures might be hunters or travelers who had lost their way and their horses, she didn't feel that they were a threat. She would come to regret that thought very quickly.

Gloredhel and Mablung continued forward, keeping their horses to a fast trot. The distance between the two groups closed quickly. The lady began to grow slightly apprehensive as she caught a better look at the other party; they were swarthy, rough looking fellows who had obviously not had the benefit of a bath in many days. Gloredhel began to think that these people might not be the lost or innocent travelers she first though them to be.

As the parties began to draw abreast, the leader of the other company hailed them, and Gloredhel and Mablung were forced to bring their horses to a halt.

With his three companions hanging back a few paces, their leader stepped forward. His repulsive face was dirty and badly scared on one side. Gloredhel believed that he was part Southron. His voice, when he spoke, was heavily accented. "Is this the road to Pelagir?"

Mablung replied, "You three are on the wrong side of the river. The road you want is on the west bank. You must be strangers here. You'll want horses if you want to go all the way to Pelagir; that is near 100 miles from here."

Gloredhel was watching the Southron carefully as he spoke with the ranger. He held one hand in the air dangerously near the bridle of Mablung's horse and drifting closer, and his other hand was much too near his dagger for comfort. As Mablung turned slightly while giving directions, Gloredhel saw the Southron start to make his move.

"Mablung, watch out!" Gloredhel tried to shout a warning, but it came too late.

The Southron grabbed a hold of the horse's bridle with one hand and drew his dagger with the other. One of the Southron's companions lunged forward and wrenched the reins of her horse from Gloredhel's hand. (She had only been holding them loosely with one hand as one arm she kept around her son.) The other two, who were carrying bows, notched arrows and drew their bows in a flash.

Mablung had instantly gone for his sword, as Gloredhel shouted a warning, but he arrested his hand as the Southron spoke a dire warning.

"Don't do it, if you want your wife and boy to live."

A heavy scowl was on his face, as Mablung released the hilt of his sword and moved his hand slowly out of the way. The mistake of the bandits was good in Mablung's mind, for he feared what might be done to the Lady and her son if the bandits realized they were not his family or worse if they realized they were the wife and son of the Steward.

"What do you ruffians want?" He growled in reply.

"Now, now," the Southron replied with a sneer, "words like that don't exactly add to my patience."

Gloredhel watched this exchange with trepidation. She didn't fear for herself but for her little son who sat in front of her. She would have gladly moved him behind here to put her own body between him and danger. As a last resort she had the dagger hidden under her cloak, but for now she bided her time, and let Mablung do the talking. All she could do was wrap both her arms around her terrified son and hold him tightly. She shushed him quickly as he tried to speak, "Shush, my son, not now."

"What do you three gentlemen want?" Mablung rephrased his words, but this time spoke with a slightly mocking tone.

"That's better." The Southron replied, seeming to ignore the other's tone of voice. "All we want are your horses and those supplies I see."

Mablung would usually have hesitated, fearing that it might be a trap, but in the end he knew that he had no choice one way or the other.

"Very well." His anger was apparent on his face. "You get the horses and the supplies, and you let us go."

"That's what I said ain't it." The Southron said with a sneer.

Mablung moved to dismount, but a shout from the Southron made him pause.

"The sword first! Give me the sword! Slowly now."

With a low growl Mablung slowly pulled his sword from its sheath and handed it down hilt first to the Southron, who in turn releasing the bridle took a large step backward and hurled the sword away into the grass on one side of the trail.

Now Mablung was allowed to dismount without incident. The ranger moved around and lifted Elboron from his mother's horse. After patting her horse's neck, Gloredhel quickly dismounted. She held out her arms for her son. The terrified boy as soon as he was back in his mother's arms clung to her, wrapping his short arms around her neck and hiding his face in her tunic. Mablung turned back to the bandits, carefully keeping his body between them and Gloredhel and Elboron.

"You have the horses. Now go, and let us be."

The ruffians did exactly that. They mounted two to a horse and set out at a fast clip back down the trail. As soon as there was a safe distance between the two parties, Mablung hurried off the trail to retrieve his sword, and Gloredhel turned her attention to soothing and comforting her frightened son.

"We're alright now, my son. The bad men are gone." She rocked him as best she could and kissed his forehead.

"I want Papa." The little boy sobbed.

Gloredhel kissed his forehead again and held him close. "I want Papa also, my son, but Mama needs you to be her brave little boy. Can you do that for Mama?"

Her only reply was another sob. Elboron, who had lived in a safe environment for all of his short life, had been thoroughly frightened by his first encounter with evil men. All Gloredhel could do was hold him tight and try to comfort him.

Mablung returned with his sword in just a few minutes. He looked carefully both ways on the trail and only when he saw that they were alone did he return his sword to its sheath.

"Forgive me, lady." He said turning to Gloredhel. "I should have known."

"There is nothing to forgive, Mablung." She replied. "I did not discern their intent either until it was too late, and I have seen human nature for far longer than you have."

"I should have known anyway." The ranger said with a shake of his head. "It was my task to protect you, and I failed."

"You didn't fail." Gloredhel replied sharply. "We are all still here, aren't we?"

Mablung opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it and was quiet.

"What best be done?" Gloredhel asked after a moment.

"The only thing we can do: start walking. We might wait hours for another traveler to pass this way, and we won't be missed until tomorrow."

Gloredhel was silent for a moment, as she looked far down the trail in front of them. Somewhere far ahead was Osgiliath, but even the lady's elf eyes couldn't see the city for the land was not flat between that city and the place they currently were. "How far is it to Osgiliath? I am afraid I have lost track of miles."

"Nearly 15 miles, Lady Gloredhel. We'll be lucky to get there by sunset."

"Then we had better start walking." She replied; she was very glad that she had chosen to wear trousers that day instead of a dress, which would have made walking for a long time more difficult.

"Do you want me to carry the boy?" Mablung asked as they started to walk down the trail.

"No, I'll carry him for now. Poor boy has had a bad fright." She replied.

For hours they walked across flatlands and over hills. They only stopped twice to rest, but their pace was slow, since they had to carry Elboron almost all of the way. The sun had long since set, and the only illumination was from the stars and a dim moon, when Mablung and Gloredhel carrying Elboron in her arms crested the final hill and looked down upon the once great city of Osgiliath.

About ten years had passed since the end of the War of the Ring. Osgiliath, which had formerly been the capital of Gondor, had fallen into ruin after being depopulated during the Third Age and had been badly damaged during the Siege of Osgiliath by Sauron's forces in March of T.A. 3019. The city had been partially repaired and rebuilt on the orders of the king, but there was still much work to be done, and the city was a shadow of its former glory.

They were hailed by a guard as soon as they reached the outskirts of East Osgiliath.

"Halt! Who goes there?" The guard cried.

This cry woke Elboron who was dozing in Gloredhel's arms. "Mama, are the bad men back?"

"No, little one." She replied. "We have reached Osgiliath. One of the guards hailed us. Try to go back to sleep, my child."

Elboron closed his eyes and laid his head back down on his mother's shoulder.

Mablung had started slightly when they were hailed. Even the nerves of the experienced ranger were slightly on edge after the long hours on foot. "Damrod, is that you?" He called.

A figure stepped out from the shadows of a ruined building and held up a lantern to illuminate the scene. "Mablung? What are you doing here this late? Who is that with you?" Even with the lantern the light was poor, and Damrod didn't recognize the Steward's wife.

"Lady Gloredhel and her son. We met trouble upon the road." Mablung replied.

Damrod took another step forward so the light of the lantern illuminated all their faces. "When you didn't get here by sunset, we didn't expect you till the morrow." He paused and looked around. "No horses?"

"We ran into a group of ruffians who stole the horses." Mablung growled. "Can we stop running our mouths out here and go inside? We have been walking for 15 miles, and we're both done in."

"Was anyone hurt?" Damrod asked a note of concern in his voice. He had previously served with Faramir in the Ranger of Ithilien during the War of the Ring and wouldn't have wanted anything to happen to the Steward's family.

"No, we're all alright. Just exhausted."

"You can pass." Damrod replied stepping out of the way. "I believe you know the way to the guest house."

"I do." Mablung replied.

The two left Damrod at the edge of the city and followed the winding paths, some lined still with rubble, through the darkened city. Osgiliath, though partially rebuilt, had few permanent residents except for the guards on both sides of the Anduin and the Warden of the City whose house along with the guesthouse/inn for travelers was on the east side of the river.

The Guesthouse was a medium-sized building two stories tall. It was made of stone; its door was made of strong wood reinforced with iron, and the two windows on the first floor had bars on them. Even though peace had returned to the land, since Osgiliath was not entirely secure, the inhabited buildings had been built with defense in mind. Though the hour was very late, a dim light still spilled around out from around the shutters.

The wife of the innkeeper who had been sitting by the fireplace knitting started to her feet as Mablung pounded on the inn door. She called for her husband who came from a backroom.

"What is it, wife?" The innkeeper asked.

"The door." She replied.

The innkeeper made his way cautiously over to the door. Only after he had looked through the peep hole to ascertain the identity of the knocker did he unbar and open the door.

"Come in! Come in!" The innkeeper cried pulling the door wide open.

Mablung entered first, stooping slightly to enter the door. Gloredhel followed carrying Elboron.

The innkeeper had a great shock when he recognized Gloredhel to be the Steward's wife and Mablung to be one of the White Company.

"Why lady, what are you doing here this late?"

Mablung replied for her as she was busy with her son. "We were set upon by ruffians. Where is the warden?"

"In his house across the way, as far as I know, sir." The innkeeper replied.

"Do you need anything for a few minutes, Lady Gloredhel?" Mablung asked turning for a moment back to her.

She shook her head, so the ranger turned back to the innkeeper. "Show me the way."

The innkeeper and Mablung headed back outside. Once they were alone, the innkeeper's wife turned back to her other guest. "Come, lady, I'll show you to a room. You and your boy must be tired."

"Thank you," Gloredhel replied, "that would be very nice."

The innkeeper's wife led Gloredhel to the back of the house and up a flight of steps to the floor above. She opened the door that led into a small sitting room. "This is the best room in the house. I hope it will do. The bedroom is just through that door."

Gloredhel spared the room a bare glance. "I'm sure it will do fine." She moved toward the bedroom, the other lady leading the way. Once the lamps were lit and she could better see what she was doing, Gloredhel moved across to the bed and gently laid Elboron upon it. The boy opened his eyes slightly because of the movement, but seeing only his mother and another lady he quickly closed them again.

Gloredhel rubbed her aching arms and shoulders. Her strength as an elf was greater than a usual human woman, but even her arms ached badly after carrying her son for hours on end. She dimmed the lamps and then walked back into the sitting room. "Can you stay with Elboron for a few minutes?" She asked the other lady. "I'm going to go back downstairs to wait for Mablung to return with the warden."

"Of course, milady, I'd be glad to. The poor thing must have had a bad fright." The innkeeper's wife replied.

Gloredhel simply nodded and stepped back into the doorway of the bedroom for a moment. "Elboron." she said quietly.

"Yes, mama." Was the quiet reply.

"I'm going to be downstairs for a few minutes, but this nice lady will sit with you until I am back."

"Yes, mama."

The other lady moved to take a seat by the bed, as Gloredhel headed back downstairs. Mablung was reentering with warden as she reached the bottom of the stairs. The Warden had been appointed to his task by the king in Fo.A. 1. He was tall man, about 50 years of age, with silvery grey hair and a short beard of the same color; even with his age the Warden was still an active man and quite capable of using a sword.

"Lady Gloredhel," the warden said coming forward to greet her, "your guard told me what has happened. I'm very glad to hear that you are all alright."

"Thank you, Lord Aradan. Ilúvatar was merciful to us today." She replied.

The warden turned to Mablung and asked for more particulars on the identities and appearances of the robbers. The two talked for several minutes on this subject, and then when Aradan had given the information to a servant who had come with him, he turned back to Lady Gloredhel.

"As soon as I can write a message, I'll send a messenger up to the city to tell the Steward what has occurred."

The warden expected Gloredhel to agree to this, but she hesitated. Gloredhel looked over toward the clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. They had been in Osgiliath now for a little over twenty minutes, and the clock was fast ticking toward 10:00.

"It is very late." She said softly almost like she was talking to herself or thinking out loud. "It would be past 11:00 by the time a messenger got to Minas Tirith. Faramir would already be in bed. It would wake half the city by the time a rider got to the King's House."

Gloredhel was very old, and for many years had been used to almost exclusively relying on herself or on her twin brother when trouble came. This left her with a bad tendency to not always ask for help, even if she would probably acknowledge that she needed it if asked point blank.

"Why don't you wait and send a message in the morning?" She spoke slowly as if not totally sure of her words.

"But lady . . ." The innkeeper opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by a warning sign from Mablung.

Their conversation was temporarily interrupted as the innkeeper's wife called down from above. "Lady."

Gloredhel moved back to the steps and looked up to see the other lady standing at the top of the steps. "Yes?"

"Your boy is awake again. He keeps calling for his father."

"Thank you. I'll be back up in a minute."

Gloredhel kept starring up the steps for a moment even after the lady had departed back to sit with Elboron. Even though she was an elf, exhaustion was evident in all her features. Her shoulders were slumped. She had wrapped her arms protectively around herself, partly to rest her aching arms.

The warden looked at her for a moment and then spoke again carefully. "Do you want me to send a message to the Steward or not?"

This time there was no hesitation when she spoke. "Yes, do send a message. Thank you, warden." Even her voice was weary.

The warden gave a deep bow to the lady and then returned to his own lodging to prepare the message.

The innkeeper bared the door as the warden left. Gloredhel watched him leave and then turned to go back upstairs.

"I'll be down here if you need me, lady." Mablung called after her.

Gloredhel paused on the steps. "Thank you, Mablung."

The tired elf walked slowly back to her temporary quarters. With a word of thanks she dismissed the innkeeper's wife, and she took a seat on the bed beside her son. Elboron opened his eyes as the mattress shifted for he was only dozing fitfully.

"Sing sometime, Mama, please."

"What song do you want me to sing?" She asked struggling to keep her voice even. Gloredhel was exhausted mentally and physically, and it was difficult to keep her emotions in check.

"The song about the trees, Mama."

Gloredhel's brow furrowed for a minute, as she tried to decipher which song her song meant. After a moment she figured it out and began to sing in soft, clear voice the same song Galadriel had sung in Lórien some years before.

As soon as the warden had left the Guesthouse, he hurried back across the way to his own home. A servant opened the front door as soon as he saw his master coming.

"Tell one of the riders to prepare his horse. I need a message taken up to the city as quickly as possible once I write it."

"Yes, sir." The servant replied and hurried off.

The warden meanwhile walked quickly into his own study and sitting down at his desk rummaged through a pile of papers to find an unmarked sheet. Finding this he hurriedly began to write out a message for the steward. A couple minutes later another man, apparently a guard of the city, hurried into the room. He had apparently been roused out of bed, for his hair was rumpled and his clothes wrinkled and he was still pulling on his cloak and gloves.

"I am here, sir." He said. "A groom is preparing my horse."

"Good," replied the warden handing him a roll of paper which he had just finished sealing with his own seal, "I want you to take this scroll up to the steward in Minas Tirith. And be quick about it!"

The guard wondered the cause of this message for which he had been hurriedly roused from his bed, but he was too well trained to ask questions. He simply took the scroll from the warden's hand and after making a low bow hurried back outside. He grabbed the reins from the waiting groom and leapt into the saddle. He spurred his horse into a run and galloped toward the bridge across the Anduin.

The rider was eventually forced to slow his pace, and so covered the roughly ten miles across the river and down the causeway in about an hour and twenty minutes. He had departed Osgiliath about 10:00, and it was nearing 11:20 at night when he rode up to the Great Gate. He was stopped by the guards just inside the Gate.

"Who goes there?" One said.

"A guard from Osgiliath." He replied. "I bear a message from the warden for the steward."

"At this hour."

"I just follow orders. I don't ask questions." The guard from Osgiliath snapped.

The guards of the city waved him on past, and he started to make his way up through the levels up to the Citadel. The way the gates to the next levels were situated at different compass points made defense easier, but it made moving between the levels of the city much slower. Therefore it took some minutes before the guard stopped his horse at the stables on the Sixth Level. He preceded the rest of the way on foot.

The guard was met by a palace servant as he approached the entrance to the King's House.

"Who do you seek?" The servant asked.

"The steward," the guard replied. "I have a message for him from the Warden of Osgiliath."

"You're in luck. The king and the steward are still up even at this hour. Just follow me." The servant said and moved off into the King's House expecting the other to follow.

Even though it was near 11:30 and fast moving on toward midnight, Aragorn and Faramir were still awake, pouring over maps and some new reports that had come in from several outposts in the east. Aragorn's study was not a large room. The main light in the room came from a large fireplace at one end and several oil lamps on the walls that sent a flicking light reflecting over the polished wood of the walls and the grey stones of the floor. There was also a window at the opposite end of the room from the fireplace, but curtains were usually drawn over it. The king's desk stood next to the window. There was a large table in the center of the room on which several maps and reports were spread. Several bookcases also lined the walls that were stacked with books, scrolls, and other rolled maps. Several maps, one of the whole known portion of Middle Earth and several of specific areas of Ea, were hung on the walls.

Aragorn and Faramir were bent over the table, debating quietly some aspect of a possible response to the reports, when a knock sounded on the study door.

"Enter," called the king.

The palace servant entered and made a low bow to the king and a shallower one to the steward. "A messenger has come from Osgiliath with a message for the steward."

Faramir's face grew puzzled and then grave as he heard this news. Good news did not have a habit of coming in the middle of the night. He was concerned that something had happened to his family.

"Send him in!" Said the king.

The servant bowed and left the room, returning a moment later with the guard from Osgiliath.

"You have a message for me?" Faramir said.

"Yes, sir," replied the messenger, "from the warden." He pulled the scroll from a bag hanging on his belt and handed it to the steward.

Faramir took the scroll, glanced quickly at the seal, and then broke it open and began to read the missive. His face grew graver and a touch worried as he read, though only the king who stood nearby noticed the change.

"Send a message down to the stables to have my horse saddled and then find a bed for the messenger for the night." He said tersely to the servant.

"Of course, milord." The servant said and led the messenger out.

Only when they were alone did Faramir hand the message over to the king to read. Aragorn's face also grew grave as he read the short missive from the warden.

Faramir moved over to stand by the door and fastened on his cloak and sword belt as Aragorn finished reading.

"I will go at once, my king, if you can spare me."

"Of course, go! Take care of your family." The king replied.

Faramir made a quick bow to the king and then hurried out. His horse was waiting for him when he reached the stables on the Sixth Level. The steward mounted quickly and cantered out of the city.

As he had a better horse of Rohirrim stock, Faramir made slightly better time on the journey to Osgiliath than the messenger had on the journey from the city and reached the bridge across the Anduin at about 12:45 in the morning. A servant came out of the Warden's house at the sound of horse hooves in the still night. Faramir threw the servant the reins and moved across toward the Guesthouse. The innkeeper had been expecting him and opened the door as he approached.

"Your wife and son are upstairs, milord; the first door on the right when you come up the stairs." The innkeeper said, taking Faramir's cloak.

After thanking the innkeeper Faramir moved quickly toward the steps which he took two at a time. Within a few moments he was approaching the half-open door to the room in which his family was temporarily staying.

Elboron had been dozing now for a while, and Gloredhel had gone out into the sitting room to wait for Faramir, leaving the door to the bedroom open a crack in case her son called for her. At first she had sat down on a couch in front of the blazing fire. But in spite of her exhaustion, she found it difficult to just sit still and do nothing, so she soon rose to her feet and began to pace slowly back and forth across the room.

Her mind was a restless as her body as she paced. Her thoughts flitted from one thing to another, replaying most often the scenes upon the road from that afternoon. The elf lady berated herself internally for not recognizing sooner the dangerous intent of the other travelers. Gloredhel was so distracted by these thoughts that she didn't hear the hurried steps of the Steward as he entered the building.

The door to the room his family was staying in was half open as Faramir approached it. He saw his wife walking back and forth across the room, but as he approached the room, she paused for a moment in her restless pacing and stood gazing toward the fire.

Faramir moved though the doorway and pushed the door almost shut behind him; it slid silently shut on well-oiled hinges. Still Gloredhel didn't react, didn't even seem to notice someone else was in the room.

"Gloredhel?" Faramir said quietly.

Gloredhel had stopped her pacing temporally and stood gazing into the fire lost in thought. She didn't even notice when Faramir had entered the room, and thus she was startled when his voice broke the stillness of the night. She whirled around, a look of delight on her face.

Faramir opened his arms as his wife ran to him and wrapped her tightly in his embrace. The warden's note had said that his wife and son were unhurt but had been very scarce on the details of what had actually happened, and Faramir had not been sure what he would find when he reached Osgiliath. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and just held her for a few moments. Then after pressing a kiss to her hair, he drew back to arm's length so he could see her face and asked.

"What happened, my love? The warden said in his note that you had met trouble upon the road."

Gloredhel nodded and went to speak but couldn't seem to get the words out around the lump in her throat.

"Where's Elboron?" Faramir asked, gently rubbing his hands up and down her shoulders.

The lady gestured towards the next room. Just then a little voice came from the half open door.

"Mama? Where are you, Mama? What's that noise?"

Glancing down at his wife and seeing that she didn't have enough control over her emotions to reply, Faramir answered for her, "Mama is out here, Elboron, and so is your father."

A moment passed and then a small form dwarfed by a large white tunic appeared in the doorway.

"Papa," the boy cried and ran toward his father.

Faramir caught his son up in his arms and held him close with a murmured prayer of thanks to Eru for the safety of his wife and son. Elboron wrapped an arm around his father's neck and laid his head down upon his father's shoulder.

Paying only half her attention to the quiet murmur of voices as father and son spoke, Gloredhel moved a few steps away, trying to keep a hold on her composure and nerves that had been worn to a frazzle in these last few long hours. She needed to be strong for a little while longer; she didn't want to let her son see how much the incidents of the day had rattled her, too. She turned her back to them for a moment, pressing her hands to her face in an attempt to hold back a flood of tears.

After a few minutes Gloredhel turned back as Faramir called her name.

"Elboron wants another hug before I carry him back to bed."

This brought a small smile to her face, and she held out her arms. Faramir crossed the room over to his wife, and Elboron leaned across and wrapped his small arms around his mother's neck and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Goodnight, Mama."

Gloredhel kissed his forehead and smoothed away a few stray locks of hair. "Goodnight, my son."

Faramir carried his son into the next room; Gloredhel remained in the sitting room outside. He returned in only a short while. Moving across to his wife, he wrapped again in his embrace. She felt so very tired, and it was nice to just rest her head against his shoulder.

"Is Elboron asleep?" She asked after a minute.

"Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow," Faramir replied.

"Good," said she in a quiet voice, "the poor boy was exhausted. It was a hard day for him."

"And for you, also, my love."

"The years of my life have been long, and many a battle and dangerous situation I have been in," said Gloredhel in a voice that was starting to shake, "but I don't think I have ever been as frightened as I was today. Not for myself, for I do not fear to die again, but for Elboron."

Her voice had started to shake midway through, and by the end she was in tears. For hours she had held her emotions in check, but now as the stress of the day started to bleed off, she could keep them in check no longer. Her shoulders started to shake with silent sobs, and she buried her face in her husband's shoulder.

Keeping one arm around her back, Faramir stroked her hair with his other hand. He didn't try to soothe her yet, but for the moment he just held her as she cried and let out the built up emotion and stress of the long, hard day.

After a few minutes her sobs started to quiet. Faramir pulled a handkerchief from his jacket and handed it to her. Gloredhel quickly wiped her eyes and face and then returned it to him.

"We should try to get some sleep," he said, "it is very late."

Gloredhel nodded and followed him into the next room. Elboron was lying sound asleep in the middle of the bed; his face was peaceful. She was glad to see this, after his tears earlier. The two parents streaked themselves out on either side of the boy; the bed was really too narrow for three people, but they would make do. Now that her exhaustion had finally caught up with her, Gloredhel was soon asleep, but it was some little while longer before Faramir found respite in sleep, as he watched over his family and thanked Eru that they had escaped this danger without lasting harm.


	3. Chapter 3

" _And it came to pass in the 84_ _th_ _year of the reign of Elessar, king of the Reunited Kingdom, that Faramir, Steward of Gondor, passed away in the 120_ _th_ _year of his life and in the 84_ _th_ _year of his rule as Steward and was laid to rest in the Hallows. Upon the death of his father, Elboron took up the stewardship of Gondor."_ Chronicles of the Years of Gondor.

Fo.A. 82

Early Fall

Emyn Arnen

The sun was shining brightly, and the hour was near high noon. But the brightness and pleasantest of the day was very much offset by the demeanor of those who lived in Emyn Arnen. They walked quietly and spoke little, sometimes looking up at the house of the Steward on a hill close by. A pall had been cast over the town, and even the occasional sound of mourning could already be heard. This was the case because it was widely known that Faramir the 27th steward of Gondor was on his deathbed.

In the house above, it was even quieter. The servants moved about as if walking on eggshells. None wanted to disturb the family's last hours together. The King and Queen had just departed along with one of the House of Dol Amroth, and what time that was left was for the family alone.

In the main bedchamber of the house lay Faramir. Even though his once raven hair had turned to a silvery-gray, his mind was undiminished, and he was fully conscious. A few servants moved in and out around the edges of the room making sure that the needs of the Lady and their dying Lord were attended to. On one side of the bed on seats by the window were gathered Faramir's three children. Surprisingly though the oldest was 80 years old, the youth of all three was undiminished. On the other side of the bed sat the wife of the Steward, a lady with golden hair and a face untouched by age whose eyes alone bore testament of her great age. When a strand of hair fell forward into her face, she pushed it back revealing a pointed ear. Faramir indeed had won the heart of Gloredhel, an Elvish lady of the House of Finwe.

The hours of the afternoon passed quietly. Faramir knew that he wouldn't live to see another morning and spent the much of the time saying goodbye to his wife and children and passing on last words of advice and comfort to his children especially to Elboron, his eldest son, who would inherit the stewardship of Gondor upon his father's death. Some of the time was spent alone with his wife of 83 years speaking of their life together and what was to come.

The sun was starting to set as Gloredhel looked at her husband's face, for now he seemed to be asleep. None had left the side of the dying man for many hours, and all the children still were gathered nearby, sometimes silent, sometimes talking quietly among themselves and sometimes coming forward to speak to their father. Gloredhel removed her hand from that of her husband's and rose from her chair, as she motioned to her daughter Finduilas, who was named for both Faramir's mother and Gloredhel's cousin.

"Sit with your father for a few minutes, dear, while I take a quick walk." She said in an undertone to her daughter. Finduilas came forward with silent steps and took the chair her mother had just vacated.

Gloredhel quickly checked on her two sons before moving out of the sick room and into the hallway. She walked a little ways down the hallway before stopping and leaning against the wall. She waved away a servant who was moving forward to see if she needed anything. Once the hall was clear, Gloredhel leaned her head against the wall and took several deep breaths trying to hold back her sobs and keep her composure. But this proved to in vain as she buried her head in hands and let loose the tears that she had been valiantly trying to hold back for hours. Oh, how she wished that her twin brother was here, her rock in troubled times of old. But now he had passed into the uttermost west, and her other rock, her dear husband of over 80 years, was lying on his deathbed. After a few minutes the storm of her tears abated and she pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and wiped her eyes. As she did so she heard a quite step and looking up saw her eldest son walking towards her.

"Are you alright, Mother?" He asked.

"As well as I can be under the circumstances." She replied with a slight catch in her voice. She wiped her eyes one more time and returned the handkerchief to its place in her sleeve.

Elboron moved forward, and mother and son embraced. She pulled back after a moment and put a hand on her son's cheek looking scrutinizingly into his face.

"And are you alright, my boy?" She asked.

Elboron looked down at the floor and swallowed hard. His voice was very quiet when he answered. "I have known for a very long time that Father was mortal. Maybe it's the childish impression lingering on that thinks that your father is the best and can do anything and everything, but part of me never really thought that this day would come."

"I understand. I wish this day hadn't come also." Gloredhel said leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his brow. "Come. We should go back now."

Both mother and son slipped back into the sick room as quietly as they had left. Finduilas moved from the seat at her father's side, and Gloredhel slipped back into her chair. Faramir who she thought had been asleep opened his eyes as his wife sat down.

After a moment he spoke in a voice that was stronger than it had been in many hours. "Leave for a few minutes, children." He had seen the vestige of tears on his wife's face, and knowing that his time would soon have run its course, wanted an opportunity for one last private talk with his wife.

When the children had made their way out of the room, he turned his gaze back to his wife and gazed searchingly into her face. Gloredhel could feel the tears trying to come back but valiantly tried to keep them back. After a moment, Faramir lifted a hand and wiped away the tear tracks on her face before pressing his hand to her cheek. She pressed one of her own hands over his. For a moment all was quiet, and then Faramir spoke.

"Do you regret your choice?" He asked.

"Never, never." Gloredhel replied. "I only wish that we had longer together."

"Will you return to Valinor?" He asked.

"Not immediately." Gloredhel replied struggling to keep her emotions out of her voice. "I will stay as long as Aragorn lives, and then long enough to see Eldarion secure on the throne before I depart into the West."

"My only regret" Faramir said his voice growing somewhat softer, "is the grief that my death will cause for you and the children."

"Do not worry for us, my love." Gloredhel said. "We will go on. I knew my days with you would be limited when we were married. I am no stranger to death; I will go on. I always have."

He nodded and seemed to sink back into the pillows. Gloredhel released his hand and sat his hand back down gently on the bed before moving over to sit on the edge of bed. Leaning forward and kissing him, she then rested her head on his chest for a few moments. Faramir lifted his other hand and gently stroked her hair for a moment before closing his eyes to rest. Gloredhel moved back to the chair and retook his hand. After another moment she indicted to a servant that the children could be called back in.

Another couple hours passed quietly away, as the breaths of the dying man grew slower and slower. Though the grief in the room was palpable, it was also peaceful. Faramir had lived a good life and was ready to depart.

It was night and the stars were twinkling brightly outside when the end came. Faramir had seemed to be asleep for some little time, and Gloredhel was still sitting by his side with her hand clasped in his, when he opened his eyes. He had no strength left to speak, but there was one last look of love for his wife and children, and then his grey eyes closed for the last time, and his chest ceased to rise and fall.

Gloredhel leaned forward and rested her head on her arms, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Finduilas burst into tears, and Elboron wrapped his sister in a tight hug. Silent tears ran down his face and that of Aranuir, their youngest child. There were tears also on the faces of all the servants in the room and in the house as the news of their lord's death was transmitted around the house. Outside the house the bells begin to toll transmitting the new of the Steward's death to the town below.

Only for a few minutes did Gloredhel allow herself to cry. Finally she stood from her chair and loosed her hand from that of her dead husband. She leaned over and kissed him, her tears dropping down onto his face. Then she straightened up and pulled the sheet over his face.

"Farewell, my love." She said. Her heart felt like it was breaking, but she must look after the children and the others things that had to be done.

She moved over to the other side of the room and embraced each of her children in turn. There were tears in all their faces, but Finduilas' racking sobs had now quieted. Leaving her children for the moment, Gloredhel moved out into the hallway. A little ways from the door a small group of servants had gathered. (As the end approached, all the servants had left the room, only coming when called, to give the family as much privacy as possible.) One of the servants moved forward, but it was a few moments before Gloredhel was able to speak.

"Send a messenger to the king," she said, "tell him… tell him…" Her voice broke, and she couldn't continue.

"I understand, my lady. I will leave at once." The servant said with eyes full of tears, for Faramir had been loved by all in his household.

Gloredhel nodded, and the servant immediately moved away to go fulfill his sad errand.

It was a sad procession that left Emyn Arnen two days later to bear Faramir's body to Minas Tirith to be buried. The Rangers of Ithilien had claimed it as their right to be the escorts of their lord's body and of his widow and children. The streets of Osgiliath and of Minas Tirith were lined with people wanting to pay their final respects to the Steward. Gloredhel, Elboron, Finduilas, and Aranuir walked slowly behind the carriage as they wound their way up the streets of the city toward the Hallows. Aragorn, Arwen, and their children meet the procession at the Fen Hollen, the entrance to the Rath Dínen, along with many others of the king's councilors. They joined the procession, and all made their way down the Rath Dínen to the House of the Stewards. The carriage stopped at the entrance to the House. The rangers picked up the bed on which the body lay and lifted it down from the carriage with the greatest of gentleness as if the form in it still lived. Then they carried it into the building. The family of the deceased followed along with the king and his family and a few others of the councilors. All the public had stopped at the Fen Hollen.

In the domed vault were the tombs of all the stewards in rows of marble sarcophagi topped with lifelike statues. Nearby lay an open sarcophagus and in this they laid the body of Faramir, the 27th steward of Gondor. Then all were allowed to file past one last time to pay their respects: the family first and then all others. As Gloredhel starred through her black veil down at her husband's body, it seemed to her that he was only asleep, but this was a sleep from which he would never awake. She leaned forward and touched his hand one last time and then moved on with silent tears hidden by her veil running down her cheeks. Finally when all was done, the lid of the sarcophagus was moved and the tomb was sealed. The echoing thud of this in the vaulted chamber bore testament to Gloredhel that this was real, not an awful dream.

For a few minutes Gloredhel just stood staring at the closed tomb as the most of the others started to move off. When she finally turned away from the tomb, only Aragorn, Arwen, and Eldarion were still there. Eldarion's sisters had already led her children away. The king came forward and offered Gloredhel his arm, which she gratefully accepted, as she was suddenly feeling very tired. Eldarion offered his arm to his mother, and so all passed out of the Hallows back into the land of the living.

The rest of the day passed quietly for those who grieved. Gloredhel and her children spent much of it together, sometimes reminiscing of him who had passed, sometimes crying, and sometimes just being silent. It was a little after supper time, when Gloredhel heard a knock on her door as she sat alone in the room that had been Faramir's long ago and then Faramir's and hers after their marriage.

"Enter." She said loud enough to be heard in the hall. The door opened, and the queen entered also dressed in black.

"Arwen" Gloredhel made to stand but returned to her seat at a wave of the queen's hand.

"Sit, sit, Gloredhel," Arwen said coming forward and taking a seat next to the other elf. "I just came to check on you, when you didn't come down for dinner."

"I wasn't hungry." Gloredhel said. She continued after a moment. "Did the children eat?"

"A little." Arwen replied. "None of us felt like eating much after the events of today. Aragorn is speaking to Elboron right now of matters related to the Stewardship of Gondor which your son will soon take up. Eldarion and my daughters are with Finduilas and Aranuir right now trying to distract them somewhat from the weight of their grief."

"Thank you for looking out for them." Gloredhel said softly. "I needed a little time to myself."

"I understand. You need time to grieve, all of you do." Arwen said comfortingly.

They sat in companionable silence for a little while: one lost in her own thoughts, one wishing she could so something to give comfort to the other.

Gloredhel looking around the room at the familiar signs of one who had so recently departed: the shelves of books, the piles of maps and reports on the desk, the extra cloak across the back of the chair. She turned her face away and starred out the window with eyes full of tears.

"I had never done so before, Arwen, but now I envy you." Gloredhel said in a voice choked with emotion.

"Envy me?" Arwen asked in surprise. "Why?"

"You chose the fate of men because of your love for the king. I loved a mortal also, but I have no such comfort. When you die, you will join Aragorn beyond the circles of the World, but I will sail West and all I will have left is the memory of our love for the long years that remain to me."

"You do not know that you will never meet again." Arwen said trying to comfort her friend.

"No one knows, except Eru, what the fate of the elves is. Perhaps we will meet again after the Dagor Dagorath, perhaps not." Gloredhel said. "In a way, my choice also was that of Lúthien, for I have chosen both the sweetness of love and the bitterness of sorrow and separation."

"You must try to think of what you gained, not just of what you lost." The queen said.

"I am trying, but it is so hard. I feel so alone, now that Faramir is gone." Gloredhel said trying not to cry. "Oh, how I wish Glorfindel was here."

Arwen leaned over and embraced her. Gloredhel rested her head on the queen's shoulder and let the tears come. For some minutes she indulged in the comfort of tears, but then resolutely sat up and dried her eyes.

"You should try to rest, Gloredhel." Arwen said. "It has been a long day, and perhaps you will find some peace in the road of dreams."

Too worn out by grief to think of arguing, Gloredhel nodded and lay down in the nearby bed still in her widow's weeds. Arwen blew out the lamp and quietly slipped out of the room.

The last things Faramir remembered were the feel of his wife's hand in his and the sound of her weeping. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in a long, dark hall. On the walls hung large, magnificent tapestries which Faramir saw depicted the histories of Middle Earth. Some ways down the hall stood a dark throne, in it sat a form draped in a dark robe pulled over its face. Faramir remembered the stories his wife had sometimes told him and finally realized where he was. This was Mandos' Halls in Valinor, which would make the robed man Namo, the Doomsman of the Valar. What was going on? Why was he here?

Faramir moved forward slowly down the hall toward the throne. As Faramir approached, the figure sitting on the throne turned towards him but didn't pull back his cloak's hood. Faramir finally drew near to Mandos and made a deep bow of respect and waited to hear why he had been brought to these Halls.

"Faramir, son of Denethor." The Doomsman said. His voice was solemn and deep.

"Yes, my lord." Faramir replied. "Why am I here, lord, when I am of mortal kindred?"

"You are here because a choice has been given to you by the will of Ilúvatar." Namo said.

"A choice? I do not understand." Faramir said. He felt like his heart had just leapt into his throat. This could not be mean what he thought it might mean.

"A choice of fates," Namo said, "because of your love for Gloredhel of Finwe's house. You have a choice of fates whether to choose of the fate of the elves and remain here in my halls until you are reborn or to choose the fate of men and pass beyond the circle of this world. Only once before has this grace been given, and it shall never be given again. Choose wisely."

But what a choice, Faramir thought, how could he choose. With either choice he would both gain and lose. If he chose the fate of men, then he would perhaps see his brother and parents again and those friends who had gone before, but then he would not see his wife and children again. If he chose the fate of the elves, then he would meet his wife and children again someday and would dwell among the elves and perhaps meet Mithrandir again, but then he would not see Boromir or his parents again. Even as he thought of this, his wife's face came to his mind and the look of sorrow and heartbreaking grief in her eyes during his final hours.

In the end there was only one choice Faramir could make. "I have made my choice." He said to the Valar. "I choose the fate of the elves."

"And so it will be." Namo replied. "Therefore, you will abide here in my halls until the time is appointed that you are released." And then with a wave of his hand, he indicated that their meeting was over, and Faramir moved away from the throne further into the Halls.

But of all that was spoken in the Halls of Awaiting, Gloredhel knew nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

_"_ _Fo.A. 120, March 1, Elessar, first king of the Reunited Kingdom, laid down his life in the manner of the kings of old. Eldarion his son inherited the throne. Soon thereafter Arwen wife of Elessar and daughter of Elrond passed north out of the city and died in Lórien the next year."_ Book of the Kings.

 _"_ _In Fo.A 130, with the blessing of the king, Gloredhel, Lady of Ithilien and Emyn Arnen and the widow of Faramir the former Steward of Gondor, with two of her children passed north out of Minas Tirith to return to her own home across the Sea."_ Chronicles of the Years of Gondor.

Fo.A. 130

Spring

Minas Tirith

Forty-eight long years had passed since the death of Faramir and ten years since the death of Aragorn. As she had indicated to her husband before his death, Gloredhel has remained in Gondor for ten years after Aragorn's death long enough to see Eldarion secure on the throne. That was now the case. Eldarion was secure on the throne; he had a young son to inherit the throne after him, and the realm had been at peace for many years. With all this the case, Gloredhel now felt that she could leave, and for that purpose she had now come to Gondor in the spring of Fo.A 130 to seek release of her oaths to the House of Eärendil from Eldarion.

As Gloredhel rode up to the entrance to the tunnel that led to the citadel, a guard came forward and took hold of her horse's bridle while she dismounted. The guard led her horse away toward the stables, and Gloredhel continued on foot up the tunnel. As the widow of the last Steward, Gloredhel was admitted without question and was accorded high respect. Another one of the Tower Guard met her at the top of the tunnel and came forward and made a low bow.

"The king is excepting you." He said. "If you would follow me, my lady, I will lead you to him."

The guard led Gloredhel past the Court of the Fountain and the White Tree, past the Tower of Ecthelion, and into the King's House toward the rear of the citadel. He led her through the halls of the King's House to the study where the king was. He stopped in front of this door and knocked on it. When the guard heard the command to enter, he opened the door and motioned Gloredhel to enter. Eldarion had been sitting at his desk studying some papers but immediately rose to greet Gloredhel as she entered.

"Lady Gloredhel," he said guiding her to a chair, "you are most welcome here."

"Thank you, my lord." Gloredhel replied taking her seat. Eldarion pulled another nearby chair closer so that they could talk comfortably.

They exchanged pleasantries for several minutes, asking after the health of their respective children, Eldarion's wife, etc, etc. Finally they got down to business.

"I believe I know why you have come, Lady." Eldarion said. "Elboron has told me recently that you are becoming restless."

Gloredhel starred down at her clasped hands and black skirt for a moment as she thought how to frame her words. "This has been my home for many years, but now many of my ties to this land have passed from this life. Staying here brings me both happiness and grief, and I long to return back to my own lands and see my own kin."

"We will be sorry to lose you," Eldarion said, "but if you wish to leave we will not hinder you. "

"Then one thing remains to be done so that I may depart in peace." Gloredhel said.

"Name it." The king replied. "And it shall be done."

"Long ago I swore an oath to protect the House of Eärendil until death either took me again or I was released from my oaths. I would ask that you release me from that oath, so that I may depart in peace." Gloredhel said.

Eldarion leaned forward and put his hands on either side of hers for a moment and then released her hands. "I release you from all your oaths to my house. Go in peace."

Both were silent for a short time and then Eldarion spoke again. "How much longer will you remain here?"

"Not long, a fortnight or two. My children already know of my plans, but I must conclude my affairs here and see which of them will accompany me." Gloredhel replied.

"You will be missed greatly after you depart." Eldarion said. He looked up at a clock on the mantel and then spoke again. "I'm sure that you wish to return to Emyn Arnen, but it grows near to dinner time. You must stay and have dinner with us."

Gloredhel readily agreed to this, greatly enjoying the company of Eldarion and his family especially when she would so soon depart into the West. She ate a pleasant dinner with them and then returned along the road to Emyn Arnen arriving home late in the evening.

Aranuir, her youngest son, met her at the entrance to the house.

"Welcome home, mother." He said. "Did you accomplish what you desired?"

"Yes, I did." Gloredhel said dismounting and handing the reins to a groom.

When they had entered the house, she paused for a moment and said to her son. "Go find your siblings, please, and ask them to come to library for a little while.

"Of course, mother." Her son replied and hurried off to find his older brother and sister.

Gloredhel made her way through to the back of the house and entered the large library. Here Faramir had gathered many books over his long life. Around a large fireplace on one side of the room several chairs were gathered. Gloredhel didn't sit down yet but walked silently up and down the rows of books reminiscing as she waited for her children to come.

It took only a few minute before her three children entered the library. Not seeing his mother Aranuir called out. "We're here, mother."

Gloredhel appeared from the back of the library. "And I am here as well, my son."

After they were all sitting down by the fire, Gloredhel spoke to her children of her meeting with Eldarion and her plans for the future. As she drew to the end she said. "Once I depart into the West, you three will have to make your choices of whether to be counted among the Eldar or the Edain."

Elboron leaned forward as if to speak but for a moment he didn't. The Steward of Gondor was usually skilled with words but now looking at his dear mother from whom he would soon be parted, the words for a few moments would not come. Finally he spoke first looking at his siblings than at his mother. "I do not know whether or not my brother and sister have made their choices, but I know mine. Tis a most difficult choice because of the partings which it will entail, but I am the Steward of Gondor, and I will not leave my people. I choose the fate of the Edain."

Gloredhel had expected this decision from her eldest son. "You will be missed sorely, my son."

Gloredhel then looked to her other two children seeing if they, too, had already made their choices.

Seeing her mother's questioning glance, Finduilas spoke up speaking both for herself and for her younger brother, Aranuir. "We also know our choice, mother. We will sail with you into the West."

"And you will be most welcome, my children." Their mother replied glad at least that two of her children would be spared to her. After glancing up at the clock on the mantel piece, she spoke again. "The hour grows late. We should all go to bed soon."

After bidding goodnight to her three children, she rose to leave and had just reached the door when Aranuir suddenly spoke in a questioning tone. "Is this why you named me Aranuir? Did you know I would sail with you?" He asked this for his name in Sindarin meant Eternal King.

Gloredhel turned back at her son's question. "No, I never knew for certain, but I always had a feeling that you would."

It was almost exactly a month before Gloredhel had concluded her affairs and was ready to depart. Outside the entrance to Steward's house in Ithilien stood ten horses. Six horses were ridden by elves from the colony in Ithilien who would escort Gloredhel and her children to Rivendell. On two other fine horses Finduilas and Aranuir were mounted. Elboron who would travel with his mother and siblings as far as Minas Tirith hadn't yet mounted but was waiting for his mother to exit the house so that he could assist her in mounting her own horse. After a few more minutes had passed Gloredhel exited the house for the final time had made her way down the steps to where the others were waiting. Elboron stepping forward assisted his mother onto her horse.

The group made their way slowly out of the town; many of the townspeople had come out to say farewell to the lady and her children. When they had exited the town, they continued on the road till the town behind them started to grow small, and then they stopped their horses for a minute. Gloredhel turned his horse and looked back at her home for one last time. Thinking of her late husband and their happy years together tears started to come to her eyes, but she quickly brushed them away. After one final look she turned her horse back around, and the group continued on toward Minas Tirith.

The group reached Minas Tirith early in the afternoon. Gloredhel and her children made their way through the city up to the citadel where they were met by Eldarion and his family. One last trip to the Hallows was made where Gloredhel paid her respects one last time at the tomb of her husband and at the tomb of the late king. Leaving the Hallows she said farewell to Eldarion and his wife and son, and then they four passed out of the city.

The group traveled slowly for time was not of the essence. From Minas Tirith they traveled north to Rohan where they were entertained hospitably for several days by the current king of Rohan, the grandson of Eomer. From there they traveled west to Fangorn and Isengard, where the Finduilas and Aranuir saw the glory of the Treegarth of Orthanc and meet Treebeard, the oldest of the Ents. Then they traveled north a little distance to Lórien, where the two half-elves saw the faded glory of Lórien and the green tomb of Arwen Undomiel. From there they continued north and met Thranduil on the borders of Greenwood the Great and said their farewells. Then they traveled west again across the Misty Mountains to Rivendell. At Rivendell their escort left them and returned south.

Gloredhel had had a special purpose for this journey. She wanted her children who hadn't traveled outside Gondor or Rohan before to see the glory and greatness of the Elves even though it was greatly faded and to meet some of those who had made an impact on the history of the elves.

On the last day of their stay at Rivendell, Gloredhel made one final trip to the edge of the valley to say a strange farewell. They she waited staring up into the sky until she saw a large eagle flying toward the valley from the direction of the Misty Mountains. Another ten minutes passed and then a large eagle landed gracefully in front of the elf lady. Gloredhel pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up into the piercing gaze of the eagle.

"Hello, Gwaihir. It's been a long time." She said, a smile lighting up her face.

"Greetings, lady. It has been many years." Gwaihir replied. "Why have you called for me?"

"Because I wanted to say farewell and to thank you for your friendship and help these many years. I will depart with my children tomorrow for the Havens and then sail West." Gloredhel said.

"You will be missed, lady." The great eagle replied. "Perhaps now you may find peace and rest from your grief."

"I hope so, for I long for rest. Thank you, Gwaihir, for your many kindnesses to me in these long years since we first met." Gloredhel replied bringing the short meeting towards it end. Then for once leaving aside the usual way to say farewells with eagles, she said. "Farewell, my old friend. I hope one day we will meet again."

Gwaihir stepped back carefully making sure he wouldn't hit his friend when he took off. "Farewell, Gloredhel, friend of the eagles. Perhaps we shall one day, and I hope that it will be so."

Then with two great beats of his powerful wings Gwaihir lifted himself into the air. Gloredhel stood watching him depart and raised a hand in a final goodbye. She turned back toward the House with the eagle's echoing cry in her ears.

The Rivendell Gloredhel and her children left the next morning was a far different place than it even had been three-hundred years before. It was strange for Gloredhel to be there and not see Lord Elrond, her brother, Erestor, the twins, or any of the other elves she had known in the long years she had dwelt in that place. Even with these differences it was with a sigh of regret Gloredhel left Rivendell with her children and escort; she looked forward to seeing those of her kin who were in Valinor, but she would miss these places where she had lived for the past 6000 plus years.

They reached the Grey Havens in a fortnight of easy traveling. After staying a couple days at the Havens with Cirdan the Shipwright, Gloredhel and her children embarked on a ship and departed into the west.


	5. Chapter 5

_"_ _Fo.A. 302, November 20, Elboron, Steward of Gondor, died at the age of 300. He lived to such a great age because his mother was an elf. His son took up the Stewardship of Gondor."_ Chronicles of the Years of Gondor.

Fo.A 700

Spring

Valinor

The reunion of Gloredhel and her children with her family in Aman had been joyful. Gloredhel was overjoyed to see her brothers again and those of her family she hadn't seen since the First Age, and the mother in her had been very glad to introduce her children to their elven kin whom they had never meet. With her husband dead and none of his family obviously in Valinor, Gloredhel returned to the house of her grandfather to live with her children.

Of the House of Finwe many had been reborn, though even more still dwelt in Mandos' Halls. Feanor and six of his sons were still in the Halls of Awaiting; of the fate of Maglor nothing was known. Finwe, the first High King of the Noldor, remained also in that place. However, Fingolfin, the second son of Finwe, had been reborn and had taken up again the kingship of the Noldor; his sons, Fingon and Turgon, had also returned. Of the daughters of Finwe, Findis had never departed from Valinor after the First Kinslaying and so dwelt in the Blessed Realm still; Írimë, who had departed Valinor during the Exile of the Noldor and died during the crossing of the Grinding Ice along with her husband, still dwelt in Mandos' Halls. Of the children of Írimë, Glorfindel had returned to Valinor at the end of the Third Age, and now Gloredhel had also returned into the West. Of the children of Finarfin, all had either been reborn or had returned to the West. Of the descendants of Finarfin through his son Angrod, Gil-Galad alone had been reborn.

Long years now had passed since Gloredhel had returned to Valinor. Many years also had passed since the death of Elboron in Gondor at a great age. The year was now Fo.A. 700 as time was measured in Middle Earth.

Glorfindel was sitting in the library in Finwe's house in Tirion one morning in early spring, when he heard voices outside in the hall and then one of the servants entered the room.

"There is a messenger here to see you, my lord." The servant said after making a low bow.

"A messenger?" Glorfindel asked in surprised. "From whom?"

"I know not, sir." The servant replied. "He has said little."

"Well, send him in then." Glorfindel said setting aside his book.

The servant exited the room, and an unfamiliar elf entered closing the door behind himself.

"Yes, what is it?" Glorfindel asked looking the new elf over.

"I have a message for you, my lord. You have been summoned to Lórien." The elf said.

A look of great surprise flashed across Glorfindel's face at this. "Very well, then." Glorfindel stood from his chair and returned his book to a nearby shelf.

"Did you come by horse or by foot from Lórien?" Glorfindel asked as messenger as they made their way down the hall.

"By foot, sir." The messenger replied.

"I'll saddle a horse for you, then, so you don't have to walk back."

"Thank you, sir."

The two paused in the entrance hall of the house as Glorfindel put on his cloak. He wondered whether he should tell someone that he was going out, but who to tell? The house was nearly empty at the moment except for the servants and himself. Fingolfin had left the previous day with Fingon to go visit Turgon and Elenwë, and they weren't expected back until the evening. Finarfin, Angrod, and Aegnor were off visiting Galadriel. Finrod and Gil-galad were off riding with Finduilas and Aranuir. And he wasn't sure where his sister was, having not seen her since breakfast.

Finally Glorfindel decided what to do and caught the attention of a passing servant.

"Yes, my lord?" The servant asked.

"I'm going out riding." Glorfindel replied. "I should be back at the latest by dinner time."

"Of course, sir." The servant said. "Have a good ride."

After speaking to the servant, Glorfindel and the messenger made their way out of the house, down the steps that lead to the door, and went across the courtyard to the stables. There Glorfindel saddled his own horse and another for the messenger. They then made the way out of the city and headed north-west across the plain.

Several hours easy riding brought the two elves to the outskirts of Lórien. They brought their horses to a halt at the edge of the forest, and both dismounted.

"You can leave your horses here." The other elf said. "They will not stray far."

Glorfindel turned to ask where he was to go but found that the other elf had already disappeared into the forest. Glorfindel found this rather annoying. He left the horses to roam freely and entered into the forest. Lórien was a place of great loveliness and peace. The gardens and forests were filled with beautiful flowers, shrubs, and trees. Here and there nightingales sang, and dotted among the forests were small lakes. The largest lake in the center of Lórien was called Lórellin; on an island in this lake slept Este, the spouse of Irmo.

Gloredhel made his way with silent steps through the woods marveling at their beauty and searching for why he had been called to this place. As he came near to edge of the trees bordering the Lórellin, Glorfindel caught sight of a man sitting upon the shadowy bank of the lake. He was dark-haired and dressed in clothing unlike that which the elves wore. As Glorfindel stepped out of the tree line, the figure stood up and turned around revealing a face that Glorfindel knew well.

"Faramir?!" Glorfindel said in surprise, never thinking that he would have meet Faramir here. "How can this be?"

Though he had only known his brother-in-law for a short time before he had sailed west, Faramir had turned with gladness to greet Glorfindel, but hearing these words and seeing the look of utter shock on Glorfindel's face, Faramir's face turned pale. Could it be? Could it be that his dear wife didn't know? For if Glorfindel was this surprised, surely Gloredhel could not have known.

"Grace was given to me as unto Tuor." Faramir replied coming forward.

The two embraced quickly, and then Faramir asked. "Gloredhel doesn't know, does she?"

Glorfindel shook his head.

"My poor wife." Faramir murmured.

"How long have you been here?" Glorfindel asked.

"A week or ten days, I believe." Faramir replied.

"Are you ready to leave this place?" Asked Glorfindel.

"Yes, that's why I asked that a message be sent to you." Replied Faramir.

"I left the horses at the edge of the Gardens. Let's go find them, and then we can ride back to Tirion." Glorfindel said. "My sister will be overjoyed to see you, once she gets over her shock."

"Gloredhel has returned to Valinor then?" Faramir asked as the two made their way back toward the trees. He knew that his wife had planned to remain in Gondor for the remaining years of Elessar's reign and then long enough to see Eldarion secure on the throne, but one did not have the same sense of the passing of time in the Halls of Mandos and in Lorien. Thus, Faramir was unsure of how much time had passed sense his own death.

"Yes, she did some time ago." Glorfindel said leading the way through the forest. "You've been dead for over 600 years."

"600 years!" Faramir said in surprise. Time had seemed to pass differently in the Halls of Mandos. His voice grew quieter as he spoke again. "Did any of our children sail with her?"

Glorfindel pushed a low-hanging branch out of the way before he replied. "Finduilas and Aranuir sailed with her. Elboron chose the fate of men and remained in Gondor; he died at a ripe old age, exactly 300 years were granted to him by the grace of Eru. . . I am sorry, Faramir."

There was no more talking as they exited the forest. Glorfindel still could hardly believe his eyes, and Faramir was quiet as he thought of his family and dead son. Exiting the forest, neither horse was in sight, but after Glorfindel put his fingers to his lips and made a loud whistle, the horses soon came running up. Glorfindel caught the reins of his own grey stallion and motioned to Faramir that he could take the other horse.

"I hope you don't mind a long ride, Faramir." Glorfindel said as he mounted his horse. "It is several hours easy riding back to Tirion."

"No, I do not mind." Faramir replied. "I have spent much longer in the saddle in poorer conditions and with less pleasing company."

The two were quiet for several minutes, as Glorfindel picked the correct path heading back to Tirion. Finally Faramir looking around asked. "Where exactly are we?"

"We're north-west of Tirion, the city of the Noldor at the moment." Glorfindel replied. "We're west of the Pelóri." He said pointed to tall mountains on their left. "And we're almost directly north of the Woods of Oromë." He added pointed to a dark mass of trees far away in the south, which though Glorfindel could see them clearly, Faramir could barely see.

"How is Gloredhel?" Faramir asked thinking of his last memory of his wife, the sound of her weeping.

"Better than she was before." Glorfindel said slowly. "But our lives are long and so are our memories and our grief." He paused for a few minutes before continuing. "My sister is no stranger to loss, but your death, Faramir, hit her the hardest of all. In past years when so many of our House died before and after Gondolin, we always had the comfort, the reassurance that we would be reunited one day in Valinor. However, with you being mortal, she had no such comfort."

"Not willingly would I have had her suffer such grief, for I love her greatly, but death comes to all men unless by the will of Eru." Faramir replied.

The two talked intermittently on the journey homeward of Gloredhel and the children, of Valinor, and of other things. When they reached the northern edge of the Calacirya, they pulled their horses to a halt. Clearly visible even to human eyes in front of them was the magnificent city of Tirion shining in the sunlight.

"What do you think?" Glorfindel asked glancing over at his brother-in-law.

"It's beautiful." Faramir replied still gazing at the wonders of the elven city.

They spurred their horses onward toward Tirion. Faramir gazed around in wonder and admiration as they cantered up to the city a little while later. They cantered up the crystal steps to the great gates and going through these continued up the sandy streets toward the Great Square where was the house of Finwe and Mindon Eldaliéva, the tower of Ingwe. The afternoon was drawing towards its close as the two pulled their horses to a halt in front of the great house. Standing at the bottom of the steps that led into the house with his horse's reins still in his hand stood a tall and lordly elf with dark hair who turned from his conversation with a servant when the sound of horses' hooves was heard.

"Why, Uncle," Glorfindel said in surprise leaping from his horse, "we did not expect you until this evening."

"Fingon and I choose to return early." Fingolfin replied turning to face his nephew. When he caught sight of Faramir standing a few paces back, Fingolfin asked. "Who is your companion, my nephew?"

"Uncle, I would like you to meet your nephew-in-law, Faramir son of Denethor." Glorfindel replied. At these words there was a flash of surprise in Fingolfin's eyes, who wondered how this could be, but decided to speak to his nephew later. Glorfindel continued turning to Faramir. "Faramir, this is my uncle, Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor."

Faramir was having a little trouble taking it all in, as he felt like he had stepped into the history that he had read of in the archives of Gondor and heard of in the stories that Gloredhel had told, but he recovered himself quickly and with a low bow said. "I am pleased to meet you, my lord."

"I have heard much of you, son of Denethor." Fingolfin replied courteously, "I never thought I would be permitted to meet you, but I am glad to for my niece's sake. Does she know yet?" He addressed the last question to his nephew.

"No, not yet, Uncle, I didn't even now until I reached Lórien." Glorfindel replied.

"You can use the library if you wish." Fingolfin said. "I will keep the family and servants out of the way."

"Thank you, Uncle." Glorfindel replied, "Where is my sister?"

"In the garden with Ecthelion," Fingolfin replied.

"Alright, thank you." Glorfindel said, and then hurrying up the steps toward the house he called back over his shoulder. "Come along, Faramir. The servants will take care of the horses."

Faramir followed Glorfindel into the main hall of the house, down another long hall, up a steep flight of steps, through several others halls, and then finally through a side door into a large room on the second floor of the house. (By this time Faramir was quite lost.) The room they entered into was large, filled with row upon row, shelf upon shelf of books on almost every subject imaginable. A large fireplace was built into the wall on one end of the room. There were chairs scattered about the room. Two large floor to ceiling windows overlooking the garden dominated the wall on the far end of the room.

"You can stay here." Glorfindel said. "I'll go find my sister."

Faramir nodded, and Glorfindel hurried out. While he waited, Faramir started to walk around the room slowly making his way toward the window on the other end of the room. As he walked he glanced at the books on the shelves. The titles were all in dialects of Elvish that he couldn't read. Finally he came to the large windows. Looking out them he saw that he was looking out at a small garden. Several small trees and shrubs were scattered here and there. Various types of flowers also dotted the garden. Faramir smiled softly seeing several children at play on the grass while two elves sitting on a bench by the house watched over them. An elf-lord, dark-haired with a fair, noble face, dressed in blue and carrying a flute, was sitting sideways on the bench talking to an elf-lady dressed in black.

"That must be Ecthelion, then." Faramir thought.

Faramir's gaze was then drawn to the other elf. Even though she was sitting with her back to the house, Faramir instantly recognized his wife.

Meanwhile after Glorfindel had left the library, he with difficulty kept his pace to a fast walk as he went back downstairs. Back downstairs he entered another hall and exited the house through the back door and entered into the same garden which Faramir had seen from above.

Gloredhel looked up from her sketch book as her brother came out the back door.

"Why, there you are, my brother." Gloredhel said teasingly. "I'd thought you had gotten lost, for I haven't seen you all day."

"Good afternoon to you, too, sister. Hello, Ecthelion." Glorfindel replied, already having composed himself so no trace of his earlier surprise showed on his face. "I was out riding and just returned a few minutes ago."

"Oh, alright. Did you have a nice ride?" Gloredhel asked putting her sketch book down on the bench between herself and Ecthelion.

"Quite." Glorfindel replied. "Have your children returned yet?"

"No," said Gloredhel looking away from her brother for a moment when there was a burst of noise from the elven children at play in the garden, "Finrod said that they might go visit Master Elrond or Cousin Galadriel and so not be back until supper."

"Very well." Her brother replied finally coming to the point. "I came to find you specifically to tell you that you have a visitor."

Gloredhel stood from her seat and instinctively smoothed down her hair and dress. "Where?" She asked.

"The library."

"Thank you for bringing me the news." She said, and after excusing herself from her conversation with Ecthelion and giving her twin a quick kiss on the cheek, she made her way into the house. She never even thought to ask who her visitor was, believing that her brother would have told her if he had known.

Gloredhel made her way back through the house toward the library with quick steps. She wondered who her visitor was. It was a little surprising to her that her brother hadn't seemed to know who her visitor was, but she didn't give the thought much mind.

It took her only a short time to reach the library. She pushed the door open and looked around. At first glance the room seemed empty, but she could hear that someone else was in the room. She turned back and shut the door with a soft click. As she turned to look for her visitor, she saw Faramir standing at the other end of the room between the rows of books. For a long moment they just stared at each other.

Gloredhel stared across at her husband in shock and almost disbelief. She blinked once, twice, for a moment thinking that she might be dreaming. No, he was still there when she opened her eyes. Feeling faint she put out a hand to the wall to steady herself.

"It can't be! It can't be!" Was her murmured cry as she watched the well-known form of her husband slowly crossing the room. She had always wished that her husband could be with her in Aman, but she never thought that it would be possible. For once in her life she could hardly believe what her eyes were seeing.

Faramir had stood watching for a short time at the window even after his wife had departed back into the house. Only a couple of minutes passed before he heard the door of the library open and then the swish, swish of a skirt. He was blocked from view by the bookcases, so as he heard the door start to close he moved into the aisle and started down towards his wife. For a moment he was looking at her from the back: she was dressed in a long dress of somber black that reached the floor with a high neckline and long, loose sleeves; her long hair was braided but in a simpler style than she previously done it, and the only ornament she wore was a small circlet of silver in her golden hair. Their eyes met as Gloredhel turned back around. Faramir saw her eyes go wide in shock and then her cheeks paled dramatically; after a moment he saw her reach out a hand to steady herself as if she felt faint. He started to move slowly towards her. His heart ached for her suffering, for the grief she had gone through, and for the shock she must now suffer after thinking him dead for so long.

Faramir stopped about an arm's length from his wife who was still looking at him in shock. Slowly so not to startle her even further, he reached out an arm and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"It is me. It is me. You're not dreaming."

Slowly she reached up her free hand and placed it over his. The feel of solid flesh seemed to erase all her doubts, and bursting into tears, she threw herself into her husband's arms. Faramir too could feel tears in his eyes as he wrapped his wife in a tight embrace. For some little time they stood there wrapped in each others' arms.

"Oh, my poor wife." Faramir murmured. He kissed her hair softly than her forehead.

Slowly her tears calmed. When she had stopped crying, Faramir led her to a nearby bench. They sat down together; Faramir still kept a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"How can this be? How can this be?" The elf lady asked. Her voice was still shaky.

"Mandos said that grace had been given unto me as unto Tuor long ago." Faramir replied.

"I had wished, and I had prayed to Eru that grace might be given to you, but I never thought that it would happen." Her eyes were full of tears as she spoke. "Oh, Faramir, I have missed you so."

Faramir kissed his wife and pulled her close to embrace her again. "I have missed you, also, my darling."

For over an hour they sat there, sometimes talking, sometimes just locked in each others' embrace. Faramir was sitting with his arm around his wife, when he felt her stiffen slightly then move to sit up.

Her voice was steady now when she spoke. "Glorfindel says the children are riding up to the city. I should go down to meet them."

"Do you want me to wait here?" Faramir asked. Having heard previously of the bond between the twins, he was not surprised at the manner of their communication. "Or do you want me to come with you?"

"I think it would be best if you wait here." Gloredhel replied. "If their reaction is anything like mine, it would be best if you met privately. I will go down and meet the children, then lead them here."

"I'll be waiting for you here."

Gloredhel rose and made for the door. She paused and turned back for a moment as if to reassure herself that he wouldn't disappear. Then with a bright smile she left the library and hurried downstairs. She met her brother at the door of the house.

Glorfindel turned as he heard his sister approaching. "You look happier, my sister, then I have ever seen you since you returned to Valinor."

"I have the greatest reason to be happy." Gloredhel replied her eyes dancing with joy and her old good humor that had been absent for many years. She seemed younger now to Glorfindel; she had wiped the tears from her eyes, and the air of grief that had surrounded her since her return had vanished. "My husband has been returned to me; I wasn't able to fully enjoy the blessings of this land without him."

The two siblings stood watching as a group of four riders cantered up the sandy street toward the house. There was golden-haired Finrod with his lofty bearing on a great white stallion. There was dark-haired Gil-Galad of the noble countenance, last of the High Kings of the Noldor, on a stallion with a coat of silvery grey. Between these two great elves rode two younger elves, the only surviving children of Faramir and Gloredhel: Aranuir, dark-haired like his father, and Finduilas with the golden hair of her mother.

The four riders reined in their horses at the bottom of the steps and dismounted, Finrod assisting Finduilas from her horse. Finrod and Gil-Galad led the four horses toward the stable, while Aranuir and his sister made their way toward the house.

"Hello, Mother." Aranuir said as he trotted briskly up the steps.

"Hello, children." Gloredhel replied. "Did you have a nice ride?"

"Yes, Mother, we did." This time it was Finduilas who spoke. "We rode over to see Master Elrond and Lady Celebrían."

"Very nice. Very nice." Their mother said. "I'm glad you had a good time."

She paused for a moment and then continued. "But come, my children, there is someone I want you to come meet." As soon as she finished speaking, she moved up the hallway expecting them to follow.

Aranuir and Finduilas looked at each other, confused by their mother's rather vague statement. They looked across to their uncle, but he provided no answer that would assuage their confusion. So in the end, after one last glance at each other, the two siblings followed their mother. Through the house they followed their mother until the three reached the library. Gloredhel who was some paces ahead entered the library first, leaving the door open for them.

Aranuir and Finduilas saw their father as soon as they entered the library. They both paused on threshold with their eyes in astonishment and disbelief. It had been many long years since they had seen him, but both recognized their father at once. Finduilas was the first to react; she ran across the room and threw her arms around her father's neck with a cry of joy and delight. Aranuir watched his father wrap his sister in his arms but still stood hesitating just inside the threshold. The boy looked across the room at his mother with a questioning look in his eyes; is this real, they seemed to ask. She gave a small nod. Aranuir's gaze moved from his mother over to his father who held out a hand as their eyes met. Finally getting the conformation and reassurance he needed, Aranuir finally hurried across the room into the embrace of his father.

Gloredhel watched these scenes with obvious pleasure and happiness. Her surviving family was now altogether. She had both her husband and two of her children with her. Now finally she could enjoy her life in Valinor.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. It all belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. All I own are a few original characters (e.g., Gloredhel) and the plots of the specific stories.

* * *

Fo.A 130  
Summer  
Tirion, Valinor

Soon after Gloredhel had returned to Valinor with her children and they had all settled in her old home, the house of Finwe in Tirion, Glorfindel had informed his sister of the fate long wondered about of an old friend.

Thorondor, Lord of the Eagles, was accounted to be the greatest of the Eagles of Manwe who had ever lived, greater even than Gwaihir the Windlord who had done great deeds during the War of the Ring. He had become a great friend of Gloredhel when he and his eagles dwelt in the Crissaegrim and guarded Gondolin. It was Thorondor who for hours had searched Gondolin from the air after its fall for the body of the fallen lady and had borne it away to a secret burial place. Gloredhel herself was one of few to be ever called 'friend of the eagles." It was a title she had cherished for many years, and after she had been reborn she had searched for many years for news of the fate of Thorondor, who had disappeared from history at the end of the First Age. It was thought even by Gwaihir himself that Thorondor had either perished in the War of Wrath or had secretly returned to Valinor.

Thus, Gloredhel was overjoyed to hear from her twin that Thorondor had in fact returned to Valinor after the War of Wrath and still dwelt to the present in the eyries upon the slopes of Taniquetil. Thus, a fortnight after she had landed in Aman, Gloredhel left Tirion and rode out south towards the foothills of Taniquetil. For an hour she rode slowly up and up into the foothills of the Holy Mountain. When she saw that the path would soon grow too difficult for the horse to climb, she dismounted and, leaving the horse to graze, continued for a short distance on foot.

When she found a small outcropping of rocks along the path upwards, she sat down to wait. It was not long before a massive eagle took flight from an eyrie high, high up the mountain side. Down he swept on massive wings in great circles ever lower and lower, as he gave a loud cry of greeting. Finally he landed on a large outcropping of rock a short distance above Gloredhel.

As Gloredhel climbed up to join Thorondor, she had a chance to study the ancient eagle who appeared exactly as he had been before the Fall of Gondolin. The eagle was, simply put, massive. His wingspan was a gigantic 180 feet, and he was the height of eight to nine men. His feathers were golden-brown, and his piercing, far-seeing eyes dark-brown. He was so mighty that he could carry at least two fully-grown men upon his back.

It was not long before Gloredhel reached the same platform of rock on which Thorondor had settled. The great bird leaned down so that by stretching Gloredhel was able to touch the feathers on the side of his face in greeting. Then he moved one wing out so she could sit down beside him. Then he curled his head around so he could look straight at her. Only after their old ritual had been completed did he speak.

"Well met, my old friend. It had been too many years since we last met," said the great eagle.

"It has. I searched for news of you when I was reborn but received no word of your fate. I was very glad to hear from my brother that you still lived." The elf-lady replied.

"How have you fared these past years?" Thorondor asked.

"Well-enough, Ilúvatar has been good to me in so many ways. Much joy has been given to me, and yet much sorrow. But such is life."

"Tis true," replied the great eagle, "The One teaches us both through the gifts he gives us and through the trials he grants, as well."

"That describes my life well, Thorondor, for I have been granted through his wisdom both sweet gifts and bitter sorrow." She paused for a moment to steady her voice and then continued. "Two more wars I have fought in, and many more family members I have outlived. Another High King of the Noldor I have watched die while I could do nothing to save him. I have watched our people fade and pass west. . . . And I fell in love."

"You speak of love in connection with the trials of these past years? Why?"

"For that love has granted to me both the greatest joy and pleasure of my long life, and yet the greatest sorrow also. . . . I fell in love, Thorondor, with a Númenóreans, a man of the West. One of the greatest among them in these latter days. He was wise, and he was good, and so kind. . . . Three children were granted to us in the course of the years. . . . But still he was mortal, and though his years were many, Death came even for him. . . And Death in time will come for son who chose a mortal life." Her voice broke here with grief, and tears spilled down her pale cheeks. It was several minutes before she could bring herself to finish. "Eighty years of great happiness were granted to me in Ilúvatar's mercy, but now … but now I must face the rest of the ages of this world alone without him whom my soul loves."

Thorondor curled his wing tighter around his weeping friend as he considered what to say. "No one, except the One, knows what the future holds for us. It might be many years, but perhaps you will meet him again one day."

"Perhaps," Gloredhel replied, her voice choked by the weight of her emotions. "But until that day I must bear the weight of memory. They will be both a blessing and a curse to me for I will remember what I have gained and all that I have lost."

"Do you regret your choice?" Thorondor asked.

"No! Never!" even through her slowing tears, Gloredhel's voice was strong and emphatic.

"Then, dry your tears, my lady, for you have wept enough. Dwell on what you have gained, and not on what you have lost. I know it will be hard, for I have lost family also, but I do not think that your husband would wish you to drown in your grief nor to lament your immortal life."

* * *

Author's Note: I hope the ending isn't too abrupt. I couldn't think of a better way to end the chapter than with Thorondor's advice.


End file.
